


when my time comes down I will be found

by cinderlily



Series: love is a verb [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When PK was eleven years old he had his Dream. Most people have it later much later, actually, but he had never actually confined himself to “most people” standards, and he didn’t mind being a little weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when my time comes down I will be found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bbb136](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbb136/gifts).



When PK was eleven years old he had his Dream. Most people have it later much later, actually, but he had never actually confined himself to “most people” standards, and he didn’t mind being a little weird. 

Everyone said they knew it was their Dream by the realness of it, which never made sense to PK until he was in his. Everything was surreal, like any dream was, but so vivid it was crazy. He had a stick in his hand, and skates on his feet, so he was comfortable. But the ice was clear as water and he could see the bottom of the lake he apparently was on. 

At the bottom were… well… swirling colors: red and blue that seemed to form things, but he couldn’t quite tell. He could feel the cold air around him, smell the scent of something… something he couldn’t quite name. Leather maybe? Or hay. He looked around but he wasn’t on a farm. He was in a forest. A big forest filled with small trees that seemed to get bigger as they went back. 

“Hey, kid!” 

PK’s head snapped up to see a boy a little older than him standing in front of a goal post with his mask up. 

“Who you calling kid?” he yelled back. 

“We gonna play or what?” The boy tapped his shin guards with his stick and pulled his mask down. 

_Well, hockey is the easy part_ , he thought, skating hard down the ice and deking left just in time to _almost_ score. This guy was fast and good, and he was also laughing joyfully at PK’s failure, which would usually make PK want to punch at him (he had brothers, okay?) but instead he smiled back, feeling the joy roll off the guy in warm waves. 

“That was a gimme, come on, second chance,” PK begged. 

The guy lifted his mask and PK was caught off guard by just how, well, _pretty_ the guy was. Which wasn’t the word you were supposed to use with a guy, he knew that. But man, his eyes were so _brown_. PK exhaled and saw the warm air come out in a puff. 

“That’s not how this works,” the guy said. “But sometime, you got me?” 

The leather smell was stronger now, and PK could feel just how warm and happy the guy was by being close to him. PK wanted to ask him what that meant, and when he was going to see him again, but all he got out was, “Not fair.” 

He woke up hearing the guy’s laugh. 

When he ran down stairs a few minutes later he found that his mom was the only one awake. He rattled off the Dream in fits and starts, trying his best to remember every single detail. His mom looked at him with one of her familiar small smiles, the type she always gave him after a game or maybe when he was actually being nice to his brothers. Fond, that’s the only word he could use, even if it made him feel way younger than he was. (He was _almost_ twelve.) 

“Oh Pernell, you always did like to do things on your own timeline,” she responded. “I had my Dream when I was 18. But maybe that means you’ll meet your soulmate earlier than me.” 

Well, he hadn’t thought of it _that_ way. He didn’t want his soulmate yet. He was busy. He had _hockey_ and like. Life. He needed to graduate high school. He didn’t need a whole other human to keep his life busy. 

He frowned. 

“Cheer up, PK,” his mom gave him a kiss on the center of his forehead where it always creased. “It’s a good thing, I promise.” 

* 

Time passed, and he met plenty of brown eyed boys. He met them in hockey and in school. He had them on his own team and others. But they never seemed to recognize him and most were quite vocal if they’d had _their_ Dream. He kept the fact that he’d had his when he was eleven to himself. It felt weird, and the fact that his was a boy might be not totally abnormal, but it was weird enough that he didn’t want to stand out anymore than he already did. 

Sometimes the boy would come back into his dreams, but it was never as vivid as the first and he doubted if it was real or just wishful thinking. He would just pass by, usually, but never stop to talk or play. A flash of brown eyes and dimpled smile and that was mostly all PK would get. It was… frustrating and comforting at the same time. 

By the time he got called up to the majors (THE SHOW!) he mostly thought his Dream was a dud; he’d had it nine years before hand, and his parents had met four years after their Dreams. Nine years was almost a lifetime. But he was okay with it. Or he thought he was. 

He skated out into his first practice a little late, having had a talk with one of the coaches about expectations and rules. (He’d tried to listen, he really did, but he was wearing a Habs jersey, with his name on it. It was a little bit of a distraction.) The team was attempting to get shots through the goalie, which, from what he’d heard, was pretty much impossible. 

Something started to build at the base of his spine, an energy he couldn’t keep down. Adrenaline, he was sure of it. 

“Hey, kid!” someone shot a puck at him and he caught it and played it back and forth for a second. 

“Who you calling kid?” he muttered, but he wasn’t going to start the day with an “attitude” or whatever. That was one of the things he remembered from the discussion with the coach. 

Instead he powered himself down the ice, sped up and… deked left. It was like the room slowed down and the ice thinned out. In a moment the puck was caught easily. A familiar laugh, and the mask was pulled up. He was maybe two feet away and there were the eyes. 

“It didn’t work the first time, what made you think it’d work this time?” 

“You,” PK pointed at him. “You fucker.” 

“I prefer Carey.” 

“PK.” 

Carey laughed, full dimples. “You’re shitting me.” 

“It’s better than the alternative,” PK shrugged. 

Carey cocked his head at him and said, “You want to try again?” 

He looked around to see that the team were staring directly at them. 

_Whoops_.

He put on his best cocky smile. “Well, it took you long enough.” 

 

__

_So I keep running till my run is gone_  
_I keep on riding 'till I see that dawn_  
_And I will be found_  
_I will be found_  
John Mayer “I Will Be Found”

**Author's Note:**

> For Laynie and sly_fck for telling me I didn't eff it up too badly and for bluebookworm for betaing. I am running out of ways to thank you, my love. <3 <3 <3


End file.
